


Things to do in DC when you're (looking for someone presumed) dead

by wobblyheadeddollcaper



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, pwp epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wobblyheadeddollcaper/pseuds/wobblyheadeddollcaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CA:TWS movie coda. Sam needs to check in on his life before he skips town to follow a very literal American Dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So when you said 'look for him' you meant starting right now,” Sam says, looking at the car.

“Don't tell me you don't have a travelling bag hidden in your house,” Steve says, smiling absently, his eyes serious and clearly thinking mostly about the man who tried to kill him. And who also, to be fair, saved his ass afterwards.

Sam snorts because, yeah, he has a go-bag in the hall closet that helps him sleep easy.

“Nice to know that symptom is the same throughout the ages.”

“So can we grab it and go? If he's remembered anything, I'm sure he'll be in Brooklyn.”

“You've been in hospital a week,” Sam points out. “Which is still way, way shorter than anyone less enhanced would need, but the trail will have cooled – if he even went there at all, which you can't know. If I take a few hours to wrap up my life here, will that make a difference?”

“I hadn't thought-” Steve looks at him with big, worried blue eyes. “I'm sorry. Of course not. If you want to take a few days I can-”

“Nuh-uh, you need me,” Sam corrects, before he can think better of it. Captain America may not need him, but Steve sure as hell does. “Five hours. Start driving to the VA, I'll start calling.”

In the car he phones Terry, Laura, Howell, Alex – the vets he's been taking particular care of, fielding midnight calls and helping them through the paperwork to get better medical help than he can provide.

“Mobile only, Terry. I'm still here for you, just a longer line. Watch out for Alex, okay? You can talk him through it like I did you, you'll be doing me a huge favor.”

“Hey Alex, just letting you know I'll be out of town. Terry might come by, do me a favour and let him talk at you a bit? Have his back for me.”

“You're a good CO,” Steve says between calls. Sam can't help the warm glow he feels in response, more from having impressed Steve than from being complimented by Captain America. Steve's a stand-up guy, he rationalises, and even out of the costume he has charisma to burn.

“I'm not their CO.”

“If it walks like a duck...” Steve says, and pulls over. “VA.”

“You can come pick me up in three hours,” Sam says, getting out. “You got a life of your own to pack up, remember?”

“I got everything in the car. Natasha grabbed my clothes and books.”

“Don't you have an apartment?”

“The apartment was SHIELD's. Look, I'll go, uh, get some food. Meet you here in three.”

“Yes sir,” Sam says reflexively. “Steve,” he amends, and goes inside to have the weirdest conversation of his supervisor's life.

*

“I'm fine,” he says, though he can still hear the vast crump of exploding machinery. “I swear I'm not making this up.” He should maybe have gone with the vaguely true 'a friend needs help, going on a road trip' but he can't overcome the urge to tell someone, someone who wasn't involved in the black ops/explosion/destabilising world powers madness. 

“Yep, I watch the news.” Angela says. “You are either blessed or cursed. I hope you're taking that wingsuit with you.” She gives him a laptop and an admonition to check in at least once a week. “We'll call it a sabbatical or something. Don't blow anything up that doesn't need it.”

“You are a wonderful woman, I tell you that?” She rolls her eyes.

“The way I see it, we owe that man about sixty years of counselling. He's a veteran, after all.”

*

Three hours and five minutes later, Steve pulls up. 

“Forgot someone I had to say goodbye to. Sorry.” He looks drawn, like he might have been crying, or arguing.

“Girl trouble?”

“I... can't even begin to answer that. You mind driving?” 

“That's evasive,” Sam observes.

“You know, I, uh, never actually learned on a modern car, kinda been making it up as I go.” Steve smiles again. “Just need a tick.”

It's comforting, Sam thinks as he pulls out, that super soldiers don't have an enhanced capacity for deception.

“Okay, Cap. You want to tell me, I'm here.”

They drive in silence for a couple of blocks, headed for Sam's place, when Steve blurts out “It's like some kind of nightmare, she thinks I'm losing my memory but it's – I mean, how do you – and she met him before, so it seemed – but it wasn't. Plus the whole, she started the whole, so I had to go. She's ninety, it can't be good for her.”

“Oookay. Couple more nouns and that might be understandable.” Sam is however putting the pieces together fairly quickly, and it would be too much to expect that Steve would find a new girlfriend, when the old one was still alive. “I'm sorry it went badly.”

“Godammit,” Steve says quietly and vehemently. “I really need to find him.”

Sam drives on.

“It's all I can think about.”

“Steve, hey. We'll do what we can, all right?”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. Sorry, I-”

“Don't apologise. I can imagine.”

“You can, can't you.” It's not a question. Steve looks at him, deep blue eyes searching and Sam really should keep his eyes on the road, any second now he'll look away-

A horn beeps and his head whips round, thirty yards from a red light.

*

Sam's go-bag is where it's supposed to be. He tells Steve to go bag any perishable foods, turn off the fridge, take out the trash. Steve seizes on the task with the joy of a man given a simple objective after months of doubletalk.

Captain America is hauling my garbage, Sam thinks, and has to sit down a moment. 

He shakes it off and goes to get his razor.

*

“Done,” Steve says poking his head in the door of Sam's bedroom.

“Nearly,” Sam replies, tying out a last email. “You've got no one else to tell?” 

“Natasha knows.”

“Natasha is a lovely and extremely badass woman, but-”

“SHIELD is gone.”

“Any other Avengers?” Steve shrugs, coming over to the bed to stand next to him.

“Look, c'mere,” Sam says on impulse, stands up and slings an arm round Steve's shoulders. Steve immediately turns, puts both arms around him and holds him tight, so Sam copies him. Where Cap leads...

“Thanks,” Steve says. “For...”

“-being your wingman?”

“Yeah.” Steve's still hugging him. 

“Still am. Probably not going to stop.”

Steve lets go, steps back a foot and plants one on him, right on the lips. No tongue, gentle, unambiguous. Sam is too surprised to breathe for a few seconds.

“Was that-?” Steve says, pulling back. “Sorry.”

“Before I respond, I just want you to know I would have done everything exactly the same. Helicarriers, everything,” Sam says determinedly.

“All right.” Steve looks nervous. Sam grabs his collar and brings him up to date on 21st century kissing. Steve catches up quickly, sliding his lips over Sam's like they have all the time in the world.

“We're going to need to talk in the car,” he warns, resting his forehead against Steve's.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> epilogue, mild porn.

The hotel is small, clean in the manner of a place that is scrubbed daily because it has to be. Steve asks for a two-bed room before visibly checking himself, looking over at Sam apologetically.

“Or not?” 

“Twin's good,” Sam confirms. “You look like you kick. Two queens,” he confirms to the receptionist.

“Wouldn't know.” Steve turns back – he has a bank card and someone taught him how to use it. Logically, he must have a bank account. Sam idly pictures the process of getting a bank account when you are legally ninety-odd and declared dead.

They both dump their bags on the bed nearest the door. Sam catches Steve's wrist and pulls him over to the other bed.

“We got some time?”

“I guess so,” Steve says slowly, eyes flicking from Sam's face to his chest to his hand around Steve's wrist.

“You're not gonna take off to roam the streets all night?”

“No.” Steve catches on and smiles up at him. “I get the feeling you have a plan.”

“You're not the only one who can strategize, Rogers.”

Sam leans in, placing his hands on Steve's knees and pushing them apart as he starts to kiss his way along Steve's cheekbone, towards his ear. Steve opens his legs, tilting his head to give Sam better access.

“Oh-”

Sam could swear Steve is surprised by how good it feels to have his ears kissed, which raises a few questions. He mentally slows his plan right down. No need to do everything on the first night.

“Hey. Hey, Sam, can I, uh-”

“If you can say it, then yeah, probably.”

Steve huffs a laugh, grabs his hips and pulls him in, so he's standing between Steve's legs.

“Can I put my mouth on you?” 

Sam may have blanked out for a second there, but he must nod or something, because Steve starts working open his belt. Steve's licking his lips a little, like he can't wait and Sam hasn't got hard so quickly since he left puberty.

Steve doesn't pull Sam's pants down, just works them lower till they're half off his ass and then leans in and takes Sam's whole dick into his mouth, tip to root in one smooth motion. It has to be some kind of serum side-effect, Sam thinks wildly, Steve has no gag reflex at all, the suction on his cock feels almost too much, he can't-

“Fuck, what-”

“Mmm-Mm?” Steve hums, his lips wrapped around the base of Sam's cock, and then he feels two fingers nudging up behind his balls. Sam's damned if he's going to come this early in the night.

“I'm gonna- - wait, stop.” Sam barely gets his mouth organised enough to form the words. Steve gets in one last long suck before he pulls off Sam's dick. Steve raises an eyebrow, licking precum off his lips, one hand already down the front of his pants. Which are still on, Sam notes.

“What the hell?” Sam demands. 

“What's wrong?” Steve takes his hand out of his pants and gives Sam a look of mingled concern and annoyance.

“We have the whole night, Steve.” 

Steve looks down at himself, then lets his body flop back onto the bed.

“This is another one of those cultural differences,” Steve sighs wearily. “Old habits. We have a room, right.”

“Okay if I take my clothes off now?” Sam asks, choosing to bypass the 'old habits' part of that till his brain is back online. 

Steve gets up onto his elbows to watch. Sam stands with one hand on his pants until Steve gets that he's not joking.

“Yes! Please.” Sam pulls his shirt off over his head, and Steve, after a moment, gets with the program and starts getting his pants off. “Hey, sorry. Really. I'll make it up to you.”

“It was great, don't get me wrong, I was just hoping to see you naked before getting laid.”

“Oh, I see. You're a romantic,” Steve says teasingly. His cock is uncut and not as terrifyingly large as Sam had been picturing, but still pretty damn attractive.

“First, you have no business calling anyone else that. I read your biography.”

“I guarantee you it's wrong,” Steve interjects. Sam ignores him.

“Second, if I want to be romantic I will buy you flowers. Third, get your damn shirt off.”

“Usually people relax after getting a little action,” Steve observes, throwing his shirt onto the other bed.

“I'll relax you,” Sam promises. “Recent events aside, we're not actually in a war zone. I'd like to take my time.”

“Okay,” Steve says, and moves over. A queen-sized bed is really far too small, but Sam can make do. He stretches out next to Steve and kisses the taste of himself out of Steve's mouth, his hands cupping Steve's face.

After five minutes or so Steve starts getting restless. He's running his hands up and down Sam's body, clutching his ass and whining a little into his mouth. Sam's cock is pressed up against Steve's stomach, the pressure too light and erratic to do anything but tantalize. 

“Hey, you did fast. I'm doing slow,” Sam tells him, his voice fond.

“Is that what you're doing? I couldn't tell.”

“Oh, I can go slower.”

“Sam, it's been decades since I've - slept with anyone. I think 'slow' doesn't begin to cover it.”

“You wanna get to the good part?” 

In answer, Steve grabs his neck and kisses him fervently, pulling him over so that he straddles Steve's lap. 

“Words, Rogers.”

“I'm - better at demonstrations.” Steve looks like he might cry, and maybe this is what unbearably turned on looks like when you can't break a sweat or flush red with desire. Steve's heart is going about half the rate of Sam's right now, he can feel it under his palms.

“Yeah, I noticed. Let's try questions. Do you want me to jack you off – to touch you? Blow you?” Steve shudders underneath him. “I'd like to fuck, but I think any more prep time might-”

“-kill me? Yes, your hand, now, please-”

Sam lines up his cock with Steve's, wrapping his hand around them, pressing them together. Steve brings up his hand to half-cover Sam's, biting his lip as Sam starts to move his hand slowly up and down. He fights the reflex that makes his eyelids flutter shut, wanting to see all the fulfilled longing in Steve's face.

“God, you look-”

“You too, c'mere-” Steve says hoarsely

Leaning in to kiss Steve almost unbalances him.

Sam briefly lets go to lie down again next to Steve, before starting again with a faster rhythm.

“Oh-” Steve bucks up into Sam's hand, the faintest sheen of sweat starting to show on his temples.

“Yeah, come on, let me-”

“Please-”

“Yes-”

Steve gasps once and comes in one long pulse all over Sam's hand and their cocks. The hot slick feels so good covering his erection, Sam's not far behind.

“So, worth the wait?” Sam asks, breathing hard. He collapses half on top of Steve, because the bed is clearly too small for him to roll away.

“Eh. Let me try it a few dozen times, see if I can get the hang of it.” Steve laughs.


End file.
